


Mood Swings

by ruthmakesstuff (orphan_account)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Suicidal Ideation, bipolar!Anders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-11 01:08:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4415198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/ruthmakesstuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders experiences a lot of emotions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mood Swings

**Author's Note:**

> Re-written as of 27/07/15, so if you were one of the first 50 people to read it, feel free to give it another go!

He was _euphoric_.

He _knew_ that his manifesto was finally going to make a difference – think of all the good it would do! Mages would no longer be driven to blood magic to defend themselves, or become abominations, and Elthina and the Knight-Commander would suddenly understand that mages are the innocent oppressed, and that they could _help_ them. 

He was finishing off his accompanying letter to the Knight-Commander when Hawke entered the room. He threw aside his dip pen with a splatter of ink, unable to care less about the mess it made.

“My love!” he cried, sweeping her into his arms. He dipped her for a kiss, and she giggled. “Love, my love,” he said, like an excitable puppy, “I’m going to change _everything_.”

“Yes, yes you are. With me by your side.” Hawke loved Anders like this – his joy and pure earnestness were contagious, and she could not bring herself to be sarcastic.

“You are the light of my life, you know that?” His words were sincere, and he looked at her like a man falling in love for the first time.

Hawke called him a sap, teasingly, but leaned in for another kiss.

 

He was depressed.

The lantern outside the clinic was unlit, and had been for a few days. He’d been sleeping there, rather than in the comfortable bed he shared with Hawke. Each time he woke up he was increasingly weary – why couldn’t he just sleep forever?

He hadn’t been eating, either. He wasn’t hungry, or so he told himself. There was an ache at the pit of his stomach, but there was an ache in his chest, and his back, and his head, too. Everything _hurt_. Food involved too much energy, too much preparation. Hawke had dropped by with a basket of pastries, but they sat by the door, untouched.

He felt guilty for not eating them, which made everything worse. He couldn’t bring himself to do it, but he felt stupid for struggling with such a basic task, and while he knew deep down that Hawke wouldn’t want him to feel bad over mere pastries, he could not help himself.

 

He was tense.

He’d managed to wear through the soles of his shoes pacing – up and down, over and over, turning sharply on his heel whenever he reached a wall, making an about turn to continue his never ending journey over the same few metres.

He felt like he was going to burst. His head swum with thoughts – what if Hawke left him? Of course Hawke would leave him. He was an apostate, an abomination, _dangerous_. She was a smart woman, it would occur to her eventually. Especially if he went through with what he was planning. He’d be lucky if she left him alive.

He hoped she wouldn’t.


End file.
